Page 129 of My Lovely Tragedy
Tobias’s cracked smile forces my foot down on the gas, peeling through the mud rocks with nothing but tears guiding the way down the uneven road. I catch him in the rearview, standing exactly where I left him, arms at his sides with his hair blowing in the wind.
And it’s the sight of those soft, dark curls fluttering that draws my final scream. One so loud, it splits my eardrums and leaves me panting in a brutal agony I’dkillto never feel again.
“You are my fucking home!” I wail, knowing he can’t hear me but hoping the sound carries to him all the same. An echoing haunt.
“You were my home.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
TOBIAS
I had hopedthe loneliness would have waited to settle in. At least until I lost sight of my car as it peeled down the lone, muddy road, but it seems my darling has taken all of my… good fortune with him.
But that’s perfectly okay.
I knew this was coming—and it is an outcome I expected. Anticipated, really. Though the intensity is something I never could have foreseen.
It’s as I told Brooklyn; all I have ever known is the grandeur of isolation. My intimate. My familiar. I knew how to work within its frames. What to expect, how to bear the brittle burden.
This is uncharted territory… and it’s utterly terrifying.
My palm finds rest against my sternum, directly over where my heart should be beating. Where it should be thrashing, fighting for escape. To follow its true home. Yearning and aching. But there is nothing. No rhythmic thump or otherwise.
Just an eerie vacancy.
My arm slips back to my side, dangling uselessly as the biting, fresh spring air swirls around me, taking Brooklyn’s scent with it. I lean into it, desperation clawing, but it’s futile.
The car disappears behind the mass of pines, and I fall to my knees. There’s a crunch, followed by a defending crack. The caw of a crow and the rustle of trees.
A deafening, gut-wrenching scream.
It’s all an echo.
My eyes itch and burn with tears, on the precipice but never quite falling over. I blink rapidly, urging them forth. Vying for anything andeverythingto get me through the next week. The next day.
Hour.
Minute.
Second without him.
My hands crash into the damp earth as I fall over on myself, my body contorting to protect itself from imminent assault, but it doesn’t recognize the blows are coming from within.
Each one lands with meticulous accuracy, bruising my vital organs, shredding my viscera. Collapsing my lungs and closing off my throat.
I choke, chin digging into my sternum as I scream without sound. Again and again until the pressure in my head builds so high, my skin melts off my face and falls to the ground between my knees like slop.
I stare down at my face, now distorted and… strangely accurate. It doesn’t blink back at me, nor does it even reallylook.It’s hollowed and scarred with black holes for eyes, wearing every bit of agony right on the surface.
Befitting for what I have become.
Leaving my face behind, I find the strength to push to my feet, but I cannot feel the ground below as I draw closer to the front door. And when my fingers clasp around the handle, I glance behind me, wondering how I even got here.
It’s cold inside. Colder than it is outside, which should be strange, but it’s not. Because Brooklyn’s aura is what brought warmth in, and now, he is gone. I sent him away, allowed him to go back home, as I promised.
And now, I am alone once more.
A fitting end after all I have done.
